


Right Enough

by kay_emm_gee



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drabble, F/M, First Time, written post-2x14ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They weren’t supposed to happen like this, but, maybe, it would be enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this prior to the finale, thus the canon divergence.

**_i. clarke_ **

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

She is drunk, and so is he, and they don’t look each otherin the eye as clothes fall away and fingers dig into skin. Their mouths meet but don’t lock together they way she thought they would. His is a bit too far to the left, hers a bit too far down. Still, they go on feverishly, mindless of how not-right it feels, because finally Clarke is warm again with his rough touches branding her skin.

Tonight, Bellamy tastes like metal and war, dirt and sacrifice.  _Eighteen dead_ , he had said once. Now only twenty-two alive. Despairing laughter bubbles up in her throat, because this, all of this—the dying and the surviving and the way he is kissing her tonight—is absurd, but she chokes it down as they stumble to the forest floor.

They work each other up enough to make it tolerably comfortable, but it is a quick, hurried thing. No talking, no meaningful touches or heavy glances. After, when they are both trying to catch their breath, he presses his chin against her shoulder and she shivers.  _Maybe it is better this way_ , she considers absently. Because she wasn’t ready for more than this, not by a long shot. She couldn’t handle it being something other than a poorly executed way of dealing with their grief and leftover fears.

Even as rain begins to drizzle down, neither of them moves, and Clarke cries, because she’s not ready, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like this either.

 

**_ii. bellamy_ **

With the rain, it takes him a while to realize she is crying. Heart in his throat, he lifts up, worried he hurt her, but she just shakes her head violently, negating the question she reads in his eyes. Instead, she pulls him back down, hands fisted desperately into his shirt.

_Stay_ , Clarke whispers.  _I’m fine. Just stay._

What a fucking joke. None of them are fine, and probably never will be. His ghosts are nearby, more present than usual, and he can feel all of them—the ones whose lives he took, and the ones whose lives he could not save. The weight of their stares bears down on him, and he falls onto Clarke again. She exhales at the motion, her breath sending warm, spiraling flickers of heat across his skin.

Then her fists tense, and a sob shudders out. Pulling her close, Bellamy wraps his arms around all of her, shielding her from the ghosts. They shouldn’t have done this tonight, not so soon after the mountain, but as he lies there with the rain steadily falling down harder, Bellamy knows that they were never going to get it right. That isn’t how it worked down here.

It wasn’t right, and it’s not what it should have been, but it is all they have, and for now, it will have to be enough.


End file.
